


older brother, restless soul

by shieldmaiden19



Category: Gilmore Girls, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: A happy ending for all, I just want Jughead to have a positive male mentor, Really just me complaining about/loving writing, and Jess to have someone to mentor, bughead - Freeform, college student jughead, grown-up Jess, mentoring, positivity, rated T for Jess's dirty mouth, these two are so similar, this almost wrote itself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 08:08:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16636112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shieldmaiden19/pseuds/shieldmaiden19
Summary: Jughead goes to college to write. He gets more than he expected.(Or, a lauded writer meets a kid with ghosts behind his eyes)





	older brother, restless soul

Jughead was fiddling with his pen, again.

Even now it was weird not taking classes with Betty. He missed her incandescent energy, but she had too much of it to enjoy creative writing. Investigative journalism was a better fit for her.

The clock ticked ten minutes passed the start time. Five more minutes, and Jughead could go get more food. _You hit another growth spurt_ , Betty had said the day before – _you need all the fuel you can get_.

The door was already open, but not even the glassy-eyed stoner in the back could have missed J. Mariano’s entrance. Jughead fought to stay seated, alert, and polite and _not_ position himself for an attack.

The dark-eyed man could have walked straight out of the South Side.

He was obviously Italian, with dark eyes, a scruffy face, his clothes disheveled, and his eyes bruised with lingering shadows. He exuded the energy of a watchful snake at rest: don’t bother him, and he probably wouldn’t bother you.

Mariano set his books down, wrote his name and email on the whiteboard, and took attendance like an officer taking roll call. When the students present had responded, he walked around to the front of the desk and leaned with feigned casualness against it.

“Writing is reading.”

Jughead’s eyebrow went up.

“What do I mean by that?” Mariano continued. “What I mean is that nothing will teach you good writing better than good writing. Not a teacher, not a manual, not a blog.”

The class shifted uncomfortably.

The darkly charismatic figure smirked. “I see lots of skepticism. Good. You’re already on to my next point. _Don’t believe a word I say_.”

 

_“Mariano, I’m serious.”_

_“You think I’m not? Good God, man, you’re fucked in the head. I’ve been tied down in bum-fuck-nowhere before and you can kiss my ass before I do it again.”_

_“Jess, please. Your classes in Sing-sing and CityArts get some of the best reviews from administrators anyone’s ever seen. Why can you teach those populations and not my students?”_

_“Because those are real people, not snot-nosed preppies.”_

_The look Fitzgerald gave him would have made paint peel itself in shame. “Someone did it for you, Jess,” he reminded him quietly._

_Jess would have curled in on himself if he had been seventeen years younger and less hard-headed._

_“Do what I do every year, if it helps,” Fitz went on. “Find the ones who need to write. The ones who know nothing but writing.” His eyes warmed to a twinkle that matched the light shining off his dark, bald head. “It’s how I found you.”_

_“Yeah, but I was never an arrogant prick with more money than sense.”_

_Fitz’s neat beard was creeping up in a not-so-hidden smile. “I’d avoid saying you weren’t arrogant, Mariano. The only thing worse than a written lie is a spoken lie.”_

_Jess continued to squirm under his old teacher’s piercing eye, and he felt his shoulders creep up like he was seventeen again and itching to be alone with a book._

_He settled for mumbling, “I don’t have to dress up, do I?”_

_Fitz laughed. “Oh Jess. No, you do not need to dress up.”_

Mariano continued, “No one can tell you how to write, but you’re not really a part of the club until you’ve tried. Some gurus will try to tell you that some things of writing are universal, but as you dive into the course readings, I’m confident you’ll find that nothing about writing is universal and that rules mean nothing unless you break them.

“I don’t believe in telling you kids a goddamn thing, so be prepared to hear contradicting statements every other sentence. And,” he paused at the central desk, eyes glinting uncannily, “you will work your collective asses off for the privilege of hearing them.”

Mariano uncapped a marker and began writing on the board. “Form. Content. Human Connection,” he said with each new blocked word. Jughead heard the class around him scramble to start taking notes. In another color and smaller letters, the teacher continued, “Truth. Lies. Good. Evil. Right. Wrong.”

He turned to look at the class, and Jughead suddenly couldn’t breathe. Then the teacher’s eyes were no longer meeting his, and his heart _didn’t_ feel like he needed the AED outside the door. Jughead shook his head to clear his brain and continued taking notes _(trying to shake the idea that, on the deepest level of himself, he had just looked into a mirror)._

 

_“How are they?”_

_Fitz’s eyes were glinting, and Jess reactively scowled. “A bunch of preppies who think they know how to write and yet can’t string together words into any meaningful combination.”_

_The smug old fool just sipped his coffee and waited for Jess to continue. He slumped in his chair, feeling the pages of_ Methods and Meditations _in his pocket. “And there’s… there’s one or two with…” He rolled his eyes. “With promise.”_

_Still silence from August P. Fitzgerald. Jess muttered, “Maybe five or six.”_

_Fitz broke his silence with, “Well I’m glad to hear that. Anyone I might know? Last year’s crop of freshmen had promise. I’m curious to hear how they’re progressing.”_

_Jess crossed his arms as he sat up. “Matilda Healey’s got a talent for dialogue and rhythm. I’m going to put her on poetry and see where she goes with it. Maxie Tran and Mari Brown are excellent at taking criticism, and I’ve seen improvements with them already.” He paused and looked at Fitz_

_His former teacher only nodded solemnly for him to go on. “Jake Schiller and Shenza Awabe are great describers but weak storytellers. And…”_

_Mariano seemed lost in thought. Fitz jolted him out with, “Anyone else?”_

_“Jones asks deep questions,” Jess mused._

_“In class or in writing?”_

_“Writing. But he asks them honestly. His writing isn’t pretty yet, downright sloppy at worst, but he writes because he needs the answers.”_

Again, _the old coot smiled over his coffee. “Remind you of anyone?”_

_Jess banged his head against the back of his chair repeatedly. “Piss. Off.”_

 

“Jug?” Betty was looking at him like this wasn’t the first time she’d said it.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. “Sorry. My brain was somewhere else.”

Her face quirked up. “Obviously. I was hailing _Earth to Jughead_ to ask what was up. You seemed a million miles away.”

“Might as well have been.” He groaned and slumped over the table. “Mariano is driving me up the wall.”

Jughead heard Betty slide her milkshake until it bumped against his beanie. He huffed a laugh. “He’s tough one minute, then encouraging the next. Hard as nails on everything I write. Speaking of which, he’s scarily inventive with his comments. Listen to this: ‘Even masochists shy away from reading dialogue like this. Nails on a chalkboard, Mr. Jones.’”

Betty was giggling, her eyes alight with humor and sympathy. “Is he making you a better writer at least?”

“Oh yeah. Beyond a doubt. I’ve gone back and read some of the things I wrote in high school, and all I can hear is his voice in my head giving comments. It’s all I can do to not rewrite every damn thing I’ve ever put on the page.”

“Why don’t you?”

Jughead took a deep breath, then slid the beanie off his head. Betty reached to hold both his hands. “Because I need to keep moving forward. Re-writing is good, but there are things deeper in me that need to be written. They’re clawing at me from inside, screaming to get let out, and I have to let them propel me on and on and on or I’ll never be able to breathe. I’ll go back when I’ve got some peace of mind.”

There was only grave understanding in Betty’s eyes when he met them. She released his hands and slid his beanie carefully back onto his head, adjusting his front curls to her satisfaction. “I think a trip to office hours is on the books for you.”

Jughead rolled his eyes. “What, so I can get the incisions he calls comments in person?”

His beautiful girlfriend leveled him with a Look. “So you can tell him what you just told me. He’s written or edited in the past – no one gives that kind of commentary unless they have. He’ll understand where you’re at because he’s been there, on both sides of the desk. Maybe he’ll have something to offer.”

He smiled and squeezed Betty’s hands. “Aye-aye, captain.” The blonde responded to his _obvious respect_ by smacking him on his beanie.

 

_“Mr. Mariano?”_

_Jughead Jones was standing at his office doors._

_Jess removed the cheaters from his nose and set them aside with his grading. “Mr. Jones, welcome. What brings you to this fine hole in the wall?”_

_The kid’s face shifted to a quiet half-smile as he sat down._ Kid probably never smiles bigger than that. _“I know you probably had comments you couldn’t write down on the last short story we got back, so I thought I’d stop by and hear you break it down.”_

_Jess couldn’t stop a surprised chuckle. “The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”_

_Jones wrinkled his nose and gave a small wince. “Pretty much.”_

_“Good kid.” Jones blinked at that. “I been where you’re at. You’re starting to develop as a writer, and that takes developing a thick skin and a clear eye to your shortcomings. Takes guts, no matter how you dice it.”_

_The kid nodded and took a deep breath. “So. My story. What’d you think?”_

_“You have it with you?” Jones dug in his messenger bag and pulled out a marked-up set of pages. Jess settled his cheaters on his nose again and skimmed the piece._

_He folded the glasses up and really looked at the kid. Dark hair, dark eyes, and the posture of someone no longer aware of how balanced he was between appearing powerful and appearing non-threatening._ Could have been a Bronx gang kid, for all he talks like a New Englander. _“You’ve got promise, Mr. Jones.”_

_The kid blinked, and Jess felt a sweep of déjà vu. Throwing a punch probably would have phased the kid less than Jess’s words had. “You think I’m kidding. All the comments I made hold true, but for all the blather and white noise in here, you’ve got a story in the making.” Jess dug under the mess on his desk for a highlighter and started in on some phrases and sections. “What I’m highlighting is the core of your writing and just needs better material around it to make it compelling. I want you to scrap this whole thing and rewrite ground up with these bits – ideas, sensations, I don’t care – as your cornerstones. Take that to mean what you will, but I want a full rewrite by the next time you come to office hours.”_

_Jughead Jones accepted the highlighted pages with a befuddled look. He paged through to find the additions, and Jess could practically see gears start whirring beneath the beanie. The kid nodded and stuck his hand out. Jess shook it._

_The kid swung his messenger bag around his head to settle on his shoulder and gave Jess a nod. “Thanks, Mr. Mariano. I’ll make use of this.” And he was gone._

_Jess exhaled. Fitzgerald was going to be insufferable after this._

 

“I figured out who he is.”

Jughead blinked up from what Betty called his _deep-space focus_ on his computer. “Who?”

“Mariano,” Betty clarified, eyes burning with the high of successful lead. “I dug around and I figured out who he is.”

“He’s my professor, Betty,” Jughead responded, bemused. She scowled and smacked his beanie. He just grinned. “You’re dying to tell me the breaking news, princess.”

Betty sat on the couch next to him, posture perfect, every pin in place, and met his eyes. “He’s Jess Bertrand.”

Jughead cocked his head. _Jess Bertrand_? “No way.”

She nodded, eyes steady with research and hard digging. “Way.”

Jughead sat back stunned. “How’d you find out?” he finally got out.

“You told me something he said about Stars Hollow, and that got me thinking. My parents used to vacation in Stars Hollow, and when I started digging around in their school and census records, a _Jess Bertrand Mariano_ started popping up around the early 2000s. From there it wasn’t hard to follow the threads to where he is today. He’s a lot like you, Jug.”

The understanding in her voice stung more than anything. “And what am I supposed to do with this, B?” he grumbled, turning back to his computer.

“At least get his autograph, Jug. _The Power and the Play_ is like your favorite book – you should get him to sign it!”

“His comments will be worth more than an autograph by the time I’m done with this class.”

Betty gave her patented _Oh really?_ look. “If you don’t talk to him as Jess Bertrand before the end of the semester, I will.”

“Oh I know you will. Let me get through the semester first before I talk to him.” He opened up as much as he could and asked, “Please, Betty. Let me have this class first.”

She breathed out and opened her hands. “Okay, Jug.” Her smile was small and genuine.

Hurricane Betty seemed to have receded for the moment because she held his face and squealed, “You’re taking a class from Jess Bertrand, Juggy! _Jess Bertrand_!”

Betty’s delight was infectious, and Jughead couldn’t keep himself from laughing along.

 

_Jughead Jones was at his door again, with what must be his newest draft in hand. Jess gestured him in and said to the phone, “I got a student here, Max, I gotta let you go.”_

_“Jess, you promised me, swore up and down on the head of your firstborn you’d have a draft ready by yesterday.”_

_“Yeah, sorry, Maxy, you’re breaking up, gottagobye.” Jess hung up before his editor found another opportunity to ream him. He smiled at Jughead and jumped right in. “That a new draft for me?”_

_Jughead nodded and handed it over. He seemed a little abashed. “I wasn’t happy with it – still aren’t – but my girlfriend told me it was better to give you something than nothing and made me let her see it and edit it.”_

_Jess put his cheaters on and pulled the pages closer._ “ _Smart girl. Sounds like quite the whirlwind.”_

_“Crazy smart,” Jess heard Jughead chuckle. “And definitely a force to be reckoned with.”_

_Jess looked up to meet his student’s eyes. “She treat you right?”_

_The kid smiled, small but genuine. “The best.”_

_Jess went back to reading, a small worry now unraveled in his chest. “She a writer too?”_

_“Investigative journalism. She’s my hero.”_

_“I’m glad to hear that,” Jess smiled. “From first glance I can tell you’ve done an excellent job tightening the narrative and making the dialogue leaner. I’ll read it a couple times more closely tonight and email you my comments tomorrow.”_

_Jughead had visibly relaxed at the affirmation and nodded at the plan. He stood to leave and turned around at the last second. “I know you’re Jess Bertrand,” he said carefully._

_Jess’s eyes widened. “How’d you find out?”_

_“Betty did.”_

_Jess couldn’t help laughing. “She’s really Lois Lane, isn’t she?”_

_Jughead smiled, eyes warm. “You have no idea.”_

_There was silence between them for a good time before Jughead broke it. “I don’t need an autograph or anything. Your comments on my work will always be more valuable to me than an autograph, so—thanks.”_

_Jess smiled with a gentleness he allowed few to see. “Thank you, Jughead. It might not seem like a lot, but that means a great deal to me.” He extended his hand, and Jughead shook it. The beanied kid sent him that quiet, genuine smile of his and went his way._

_He'd let the girlfriend tell Jones about the book._

“Presents first, then the double feature,” Betty promised.

Jughead groaned. They played this game at every holiday. “You know I don’t want presents.”

“And you know I don’t accept that, Jughead Jones,” she replied tartly. “It is a basic human trait to need things, so I got you what you needed.”

Jug reached forward and used the pads of his thumbs to stroke her cheeks. “You are the only thing I need, Betty Cooper.” Her hands moved to hold his wrists with steady strength. “You are the greatest gift I could ever receive.”

Betty’s eyes were damp but sparkling. “I love you, Jughead Jones,” she said and leaned forward to kiss him.

Their foreheads rested together long enough for Jughead to whisper an ‘I love you, Betty Cooper’ before Betty gasped at an idea and spun out of his grasp, nearly clipping his nose with her head.

She came back over, hands behind her back, and grinned, “If I’m a gift to you, then I’m the gift that keeps on giving.” She moved a wrapped present from behind her back and held it out to him.

Jughead couldn’t help but smile at his crazy clever girlfriend and opened his present with good grace. “ _The Power and the Play?_ ” he inquired. “I already have a copy.”

“Not this copy, you don’t,” Betty corrected. “Open it and see.”

Jug found the title page. Inscribed on it was a handwriting he recognized.

_Jughead – Your girl is one sharp cookie. She cornered me in my office and gave me this to sign and mark up. Said it was the first book you’d read that made you feel seen. So I see you, and I say writing is work, hard work. You’ve got talent, kid, and you’re getting to the work. Stay sharp and stay patient. Best of luck with everything. – Jess Bertrand Mariano_

Jughead flipped through page after page to see brackets, underlining, and comments in nearly every margin.

_God, I hated writing this section. Must have rewritten it 20 times._

_HA! English language loopholes._

_This was the first sentence I wrote that stayed till the final draft._

_I hate English and took it out on this section._

_Dante!_

_My editor and I fought for a month over this chapter. She loved it, I hated it._

_This is what happens when you write semi-autobiographical bullshit. You get BULLSHIT._

_Kerouac!_

_I could never get these words right. I’m still not happy with it._

Jughead looked back up to his girlfriend. “I’m still mad you got me presents,” he joked through the storm of emotions in his chest.

Betty accepted a hug with a watery smile. “You’re really not.”

“No,” Jughead breathed. “No, I’m not.”

**Author's Note:**

> I got sucked into Riverdale, and I'm fast on my way into the depths of its hell. I really love Jughead, and I wanted him to have some more positive role models in his life, so...enter the first character I thought of when it landed for me that he wrote all the time - my fave, Jess Mariano. They both deserve better, so they get each other!! Plus, happy Bughead content!
> 
> Title from Blood by The Middle East.


End file.
